Time…Time holds no dominion over meI defy time with the fortuitousness of an ancient warriorNot for the sake of vanityNor for the mere triumph of willBut better stillI do it for you

For meTime is a instrument with notes to bendLike the strings of a guitar or of a Cello caressed without a bowand what I really feel; I am sharing here nowIs love for youA love secret and gentle, and strongA mirror reflection of the object of my affectionA sprout through the soil of my own broken heartand scar marked resolveMy heart is glad and it longs for you

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Dogma Becomes You

When we speak of that which supports the proverbial columns of pathology.

I wonder why you hold yourself in such high esteemThe bag of tricks you hold so dear appears to be nothing more than a few slight of hand parlor gimmicks and Cracker Jack box gifts for onsite lifts to distractionAt times I think you employ yourself to work as your own personal conciergeTo wait on your glacial ego hand and footand play back commentary so you can hear the dulcet tones of your own arroganceDogma becomes youRed hot with hypocrisy and porous like pumice stoneMade twice as abrasiveWhy must it be so?

As a child I enjoyed the comfort of the rain
I would lay prone and upwards on my lawn and shielded
By a child’s spectacles
I Watched the rain from the grass’s vantage point
and smiled
From time to time with my sleeve I would wipe away the particles
To more clearly see the continuing stream
Until my clothes were soaked and I eventually grew cold

Monday, November 1, 2010

Even when you fall in love it is fakeYou say you don’t want to really touch meFor fear I might terribly crack or breakBut it’s me and I am not that fragileAlthough I am limited in what I emotionally can takeYou cannot shake me that easily

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About Me

Some say that irony provides the shackles of youth. Well, irony still clothes me like a well worn woolen coat.
I am a Poet, a Christian, a Father, an errant Son, and a recovering Addict.
We all suffer from trials or demons of some sort. I am no exception and I will spare you the tawdry details. Besides, many of them if you care to look, are embedded like shards of broken glass in my poetry. Or my book "Contrast and Compare" available on Amazon
It is said that a man is only old when his regrets overshadow his dreams....I am standing on the tips of my toes to seeing over the walls of what could have been.